Damian recounted everything that happened with Thea from start to finish. Talia felt two things at once. First—her son was far too bold. He was only six, yet he dared to make deals with soone like Thea, who could never be described as “kind.”
Second—she felt proud. Her son actually had the talent for magic.
She herself had been gravely injured—certain she would die—yet sohow Thea’s chaotic, nonsensical treatnt had saved her, and now she was nearly healed. It made her truly feel the power of magic, and also understand clearly why the Demon’s Head had spent eight centuries tirelessly collecting ancient secrets.
What her father had sought unsuccessfully for eight hundred years might now fall into her son’s hands—how could she not be thrilled?
But she knew better than anyone just how terrifying her father was. As his own daughter, she deeply understood: you could never predict how many trump cards he had hidden.
The Joker dared to raid their base because he was insane. How many Jokers existed in this world? Talia knew she was nowhere near powerful enough to replicate his recklessness.
Thea’s request landed exactly at the edge of what they could realistically achieve. Any harder and it would be impossible; any easier and it wouldn’t be worth anything. A task requiring this much brainpower and risk made Talia grit her teeth, but for her son, she was determined to obtain that sword.
As for forging a fake? Not an option. Damian’s apprenticeship wouldn’t be a one-off transaction. He would be studying under Thea long-term. If she ever discovered the sword was fake—would Damian’s life still be guaranteed?
Neither mother nor son ntioned asking Batman for help.
Damian’s pride wouldn’t let him rely on too many outsiders.
Talia, on the other hand, knew her father’s relationship with Batman. To be honest, she suspected her father valued Batman more than his own daughter.
“When I’m fully healed, we’ll return to Nanda Parbat together. We’ll do this…”
Mother and son stayed up the entire night, discussing their plan to trick both father and grandfather.
Thea didn’t bother worrying about their plotting. Of all dangers, family betrayal is hardest to prevent.
She didn’t care how they got the sword—whether by themselves, by asking Batman, or by sweet-talking their way into it. She only cared about the end result. The process didn’t matter.
With the leadership shift complete, the company’s affairs were stabilizing, and her workload decreased significantly. Using her Moon Goddess chosen-ability, as long as soone in Star City ntioned her na at night, she could sense it. Complaints were fine.
But resentnt? Those people were dood.
If they were lucky, they’d get transferred to another city—like tropolis or Gotham where superheroes were active and survival chances were higher.
If they talked behind her back too nastily, she simply sent the Court of Owls’ Talons to “handle it.” Afterward, she filed a missing persons report with the police. Simple.
“You think Laurel should have what code na?” Barbara asked, catching Thea while she was reading. The book looked thick and ancient. Barbara couldn’t understand a single word, but the abstract illustrations alone told her it wasn’t a science textbook.
Thea looked up from the complicated grimoire and saw Laurel listening intently as well. After thinking for a mont—and knowing she had zero talent for naming—she stuck with the original storyline.
“Rember how Detective Lance gave you sisters a canary when you were little? And since the Bat-family always wears black, and I assu you’re not into colorful costus… how about ‘Black Canary’?”
“Great na! You’re so talented at naming things!”
Both girls were delighted. Thea covered her face. Talented? ? Can’t you hear the elk living inside my ring screaming in protest?
But a na brought new problems.
After two days of training, Laurel decided she had improved dramatically and began demanding weapons and gear from Barbara.
But Barbara was preparing to go solo—returning to Batman for gear would be inappropriate. And since Thea was rich, free, and endlessly resourced, the entire equipnt-making job fell on her again.
Thea observed Laurel’s movents and, honestly—they weren’t good. Thea now targeted non-human threats and ignored everyday criminals, but Laurel’s current level?
Her chance of dying on her first mission was at least 80%.
Laurel was soone she had known since childhood, and with both her unlucky brothers involved one way or another, Thea couldn’t just let her get shot to death.
Using Wayne Enterprises’ Kevlar armor as reference, Thea made her an all-black combat suit—pistol-resistant, stab-resistant.
As for weapons, based on their requests…
Thea wasn’t sure whether Laurel chose it herself or whether Barbara wanted a “female Robin” to honor her lost love, but Laurel chose dual batons.
A decent choice.
Knowing these two impulsive warrior won, everything had to be fast—fast training, fast weapons, fast results.
Thea suspected they’d even practice a female version of the Sunflower Manual if she gave them one.
In the original tiline, Laurel received a few days of training from Nyssa al Ghul and then waved two sticks while tagging along behind Green Arrow.
Her combat ability back then was… tragic.
Other dual-baton heroes avoided killing because they could, not because they couldn’t.
Laurel was using batons simply because she had no other skill.
Given her physical potential, Slade’s Kali-style combat would be ideal—but Thea didn’t know it. And even if she did, she lacked patience for teaching.
“Try these batons.” Thea called Laurel over to test them.
As Laurel swung them, Thea explained, “Nickel-chromium alloy, eighty centiters each. They combine into a single staff. Since your offensive power is low, I added a stun function inside the tal rods. There’s a switch on the grip. Don’t worry—it only knocks people out, won’t kill them.”
These saintly types were a pain. Thea constantly had to make sure they wouldn’t accidentally break their no-kill rules.
After gifting Laurel accessories, armor, and weapons—essentially a full graduation gear set—Thea stopped managing her. If she died after all this, it would be her own fate.
As for the little cow that accompanied her for three months—Thea had not forgotten.
The Queen Group publicly announced recruitnt for experts in all kinds of civil engineering to build a labyrinth. No restrictions on experience or profession.
Normally, such bizarre news would attract the dia like sharks.
But Bruce Wayne’s “big announcent” had swallowed almost all dia attention, so Thea went largely unnoticed.
Even so, her open requirents attracted all sorts of applicants: university professors, self-proclaid architectural geniuses, military engineers, and even a group of “explorers” who were actually grave robbers.
With the little cow squealing excitedly, she picked the most complicated design and approved it on the spot.
Reviews
All reviews (0)